Five Stages of Grief
by Vilinye
Summary: Just because he's not human doesn't mean he doesn't grieve. Time may heal wounds, but even time travallers can't escape loss. Eleven reacts to the death of Sarah Jane Smith.
1. Denial and Isolation

For domina tempore, because of her story _Doctoris Lacrimae_.

* italicized text from Psych Central

* * *

1. Denial and Isolation

_The first reaction (…) is to deny the reality of the situation. It is a normal reaction to rationalize overwhelming emotions. It is a defense mechanism that buffers the immediate shock. We block out the words and hide from the facts. _

He drops the phone back on its cradle. Maybe the noise will jolt him out of this nightmare. He hasn't been sleeping enough recently—he's overdue for a lie-in. Five hours or so, that should do the ticket. Lack of sleep can cause bad dreams, can't it? He'll ask Rory when he wakes up.

Because he will wake up, he always wakes up from bad dreams eventually. He pulls on his bow-tie, wondering why it's suddenly so tight. The patterned tweed scratches his skin like sandstone.

"Doctor, who was that on the phone?" Amy pokes her head down the staircase. "Another one of your friends? Winston Churchill and Liz Ten were nice, but do you have any nice, normal friends we could go down to pub with?"

He doesn't answer. So, Amy's in this dream too. Maybe she knows how to wake up. "How do you wake up from a bad dream?"

"Doctor?" Amy jogs down the stairs, pausing at the bottom step. "What'd you say?"

"How do you wake up from a nightmare?"

"I'm not sure…I just wait for it to end. Sometimes I scream or cry or pinch myself, but it doesn't work," she stares up at him. "Have you been having nightmares?"

"Right now." He swallows again. "The air seems very thick in here. Does it seem thick to you? And cold. Very cold. Maybe the heating's broken."

"It seems fine to me," Amy crossed her arms. "Doctor, is there something you're not telling me?"

"No, no. Nothing at all. If you'll excuse me, Pond. Things to do."


	2. Anger

2. Anger

_As the masking effects of denial and isolation begin to wear, reality and its pain re-emerge. We are not ready. The intense emotion is deflected from our vulnerable core, redirected and expressed instead as anger. The anger may be aimed at inanimate objects, complete strangers, friends or family. _

"You dropped the thermo-couplings again, didn't you, Rory? Rory the Roman, Rory the idiot. Rory Williams is an imbecile!" He hasn't used that word in a long time, since before the War, even though he used to insult Harry Sullivan with it regularly. But it doesn't feel right in this mouth.

"I haven't even been near the TARDIS console in ages. You did all that last set of repairs yourself, remember?" Rory points out.

"And why didn't you come to help?'

"I offered—you refused. Threw a shoe at me, as I remember."

"And where is that shoe? I like that shoe, it was a good shoe. No good without a mate, though."

"Doctor, are you sure you're okay?" Amy asks.

He glances up through the floor. She's wearing a cutoff pair of jeans with a ruffled plaid blouse with a blue corsety-thing over it.

"Where'd you get that?"

"It was in the wardrobe…a bit small, but with some looking I found it in my size. Why?"

"It looks horrid. Seriously, I've never seen anything so ugly. It's even worse than my old rainbow coat, and trust me, that was awful. It made cats see cross-eyed."

"Says the man in the bow tie."

"Take it off. Now." His blood burns so hot he expects to burst into flames any moment. She can't wear that. She shouldn't. It's not right. It's not fair. It's not fair at all.

Because even those she's a good 15 to 21 centimeters taller and a ginger and Scottish, all he can see at the moment is the last person to wear that shirt: his best friend as she was in those days, a girl who might scream and cry, but never gave up.

"I said, take that shirt off! Put on something else. And take the Roman with you. Snog or slap or whatever, but get out of my control room. Out of my TARDIS! It's always too loud in here, what with you and River slipping out of StormCage every five minutes!"


	3. Bargaining

3. Bargaining

_The normal reaction to feelings of helplessness and vulnerability is often a need to regain control._

He kicked the TARDIS console. "April 19, 2011. Ealing, Earth. How hard is that, Sexy? There's even a trace of autron energy to follow, should be easy as peeling a banana. No, instead, you get New York—New New New New New New York, to be precise. Then 15th-century France, followed by Clom. Why Clom? All I want is one trip. One. That's all, I promise."

"Doctor, who are you talking to?" Amy's voice floats down the hall.

"The TARDIS," he grunts, hoping she'll take the hint. "Listen, girl, I know you said I bring home strays, but you like Sarah, don't you? Remember Sarah? She was my best friend. _Is_ my best friend. Tenses are rubbish."

The TARDIS didn't answer.

"I know you're listening. Just take me there. I won't change anything…I won't. I just want to say goodbye."

The time rotor remained still.

"Fine. See if I care."


	4. Depression

4. Depression

_Two types of depression are associated with mourning (… )The second type of depression is more subtle and, in a sense, perhaps more private. It is our quiet preparation to separate and to bid our loved one farewell. Sometimes all we really need is a hug._

"Still staring?" Rory's quiet question startled the Doctor.

"I thought you'd gone to sleep."

"I had another dream. The crowning of Queen Victoria; the bells rang, people shouted and cheered. It was great, really, but all I could think of was how much Amy would have enjoyed seeing it. And I knew I'd have to wait another hundred years and more to tell her."

"I could block off those memories. Put a wall between the Last Centurion and Rory Pond. Maybe a door if you wanted."

"No. " Rory didn't look at him. "That's part of me. Good and bad, that was me." He stares at the floor. "Doctor…what's wrong?"

"Time travel. It messes you up, puts things in the wrong order. Never gives you a chance to say goodbye." He turns away. "I used to like that. But I didn't get a proper one, not this time."

"Is this about River?"

"River?" The Doctor closes his eyes. "No. See if it was River, I'd expect it to happen this way. But it's an old friend, someone who waited so long. That's me all over, Rory. Always leaving people to wait. Ask your wife about that."


	5. Acceptance

5. Acceptance

_Reaching this stage of mourning is a gift not afforded to everyone. Death may be sudden and unexpected or we may never see beyond our anger or denial. It is not necessarily a mark of bravery to resist the inevitable and to deny ourselves the opportunity to make our peace. _

"I'm sorry I'm late. I really am, but the TARDIS wouldn't let me come before. She thinks I'm ready now. Well, I assume that's what she thinks, we only really talked once. Would have liked to tell you that story. If you're still listening, I'll tell it anyway. But first there's some things I need to tell you.

"You asked why I never came back...I'd brought friends to Gallifrey before: Jamie and Zoe. The Time Lords wiped their memories. Thought that might happen to you too. And then everything got so complicated…the assassination attempt and the presidency and Leela and the Key to Time…I was busy, Sarah, and I thought I had all the time to come back and apologize. Pick up where we left off."

A bird warbles from a tree nearby. He glances up and sees two figures walking through the cemetery gate. "I should probably go. Don't want people asking questions." His fingers brush across the gold letters inscribed on the marble. _Sarah Jane Smith: traveler, protector, mum. Finder and friend of strays. _

The footsteps approach.

"Never mind me…I was just leaving." He stands up, brushing off his jacket.

"Is that—it is! Doctor, it's me, Luke." Luke's grown since the last time they met, but who's the girl with him? Ten or twelve, he'd say at a guess, but with Luke's background….

"Doctor?" she repeated. "Is this the Doctor Mum talked about so much? He doesn't look much like her pictures."

"No, this is what he looked like when Clyde and Rani saw him, remember?" Luke extends a hand. "I thought you'd be here sooner. It's been almost three years."

"Stupid TARDIS overshot the date," he mutters, but without bitterness.

"Would you like to come home with us? I'm sure Sky would like to meet you—oh, this is my sister, Sky. Mum adopted her."

"I have the time. Why not?" Something in the way Sky looks at him, the admiration in her eyes, reminds him of Sarah all those years ago. But mixed with the lump in his throat is a little kernel of happiness.


End file.
